Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens Lost Stars (46 page)

Then the pod launched, shooting them away from the
Inflictor.

The jolt knocked him against the pod’s curved wall, and Ciena rolled to the side. Thane crawled down beside her so he could brace her body against his. The
limited repulsorlifts and
acceleration compensators in an escape pod meant they had a rough ride ahead; he wasn’t sure the thing’s landing capacities would even work that close to the ground. Through the tiny
porthole, he saw only brief flashes of blue, then gold, then blue, then gold—sky and sand tumbling over and over. Impact could be only seconds away.

He curled around Ciena, buried
his face in the curve of her neck, and held on for the crash.

The pod hit the ground with a severe jolt—then again—and again. It was skipping across the sand, Thane realized. He and Ciena were jostled against the wall, never hard enough to kill
them but always hard enough to hurt. Finally, one impact stuck, slowing them down bit by bit as they tunneled through Jakku’s desert and very gradually
came to a stop.

Are we safe? I think we’re—

The pod jarred forward, into the air, so hard that Thane first believed another explosive charge had been set off. But the deep roar he heard told him the truth. The
Inflictor
had just
crashed into the planet, and their escape pod was being thrown forward along with a tsunami of dust and sand.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around Ciena
as the pod tumbled over and over; the small window showed nothing but red-orange sand. What if they were buried? What if the already-battered pod
could take no more and burst open? He didn’t want them to smother down here, buried alive—

But slowly, the pod rolled to a stop again, this time apparently for good.

After a long second, Thane allowed himself to believe they’d survived the
landing. But what if they were deep underground? Would his sensor beacon even be able to signal a New Republic
rescue?

He switched on the sensor, waited a long moment—then saw the indicator turn green. Signal sending.

“We made it,” he whispered to Ciena, who lay unconscious against his shoulder. Maybe in her sleep, her subconscious would hear him and subtly let her know everything was
going to be
all right.

A small line of blood marked a cut on her forehead. Thane untied the mourning band from his arm to use as a makeshift bandage, staring down at her in wonder.

Of all the ships in the galaxy, I boarded hers,
he thought.

Maybe…maybe Ciena and Luke Skywalker and the other traditionalists were right about the Force. Maybe there was some power that bound the galaxy
together and took you unfailingly to your
fate. The Force must have guided him to her so he could save her life and they could go on together.

It felt like all the cynicism and anger of his old life had finally melted away. He lived under the authority of leaders who were fair and just; he had fought a noble war and was on the verge of
winning; he served alongside people he both liked
and respected. Ciena had been freed from the shackles binding her to the Empire, and from now on she had no limits. Neither of them did. How was it
that a guy like him—without hope, without faith—had found his way here?

He leaned his forehead against hers. Despite the painful bruises swelling on his face and body, despite the blood still seeping into his mouth, despite the terrible shape
Ciena was in and the
stifling heat of the escape pod, he thought that might be the single most joyful moment of his life.

Thane heard sifting sounds above and lifted his face to see the escape pod doors shiver. Then they slid open, sending a small cascade of sand streaming down onto their feet and revealing a New
Republic search team silhouetted against the bright sun.

“Am I glad to
see you guys.” He lifted Ciena in his arms. “Help me out, will you?”

“Sure thing, Corona Four.” One member of the team leaned forward to pull Ciena through the opening to freedom; Thane crawled out just after and flopped down in the sand beside
her.

The medic leaned down. “Do you need assistance?”

“I’d take care of her first,” Thane said.

He expected the medic to begin examining
Ciena’s injuries. Instead all the other team members pulled their blasters as the leader kneeled down with a pair of magnetic binders for her
wrists.

“What the…?” The words died in Thane’s mouth as he realized the New Republic soldiers were doing exactly what they were supposed to do. They were capturing a
high-ranking Imperial officer who would have to be tried for her crimes.

He’d
thought he was rescuing her, that the Force had miraculously intervened to protect them both. All Thane had done was deliver her to prison.

C
IENA STOOD IN her cell, hands clasped in front of her. The energy field that separated her from the rest of the prison was almost perfectly
transparent,
tinting the world beyond slightly silver. She had not bothered looking out during most of her captivity—at times she’d been so depressed that she had lacked the will even
to get out of her jailhouse bunk.

Today, however, she had a visitor.

She knew Thane by the heavy tread of his boots alone, or maybe that was only wishful thinking. Ciena had strained at every small noise outside the
entire day, even though he hadn’t been
due until this hour.

But this time it
was
him.

Thane smiled when he saw her, though she could see the stricken look in his eyes. Did he feel guilty for caging her like a bird?
Good,
she thought. But probably he was more shaken by the
sight of her standing there thin and plain in her prison dress, which was very nearly the light brown color of
her skin.

“Autumn leaf,” he said, more to himself than to her—then recovered himself. “Ciena. Thanks for finally agreeing to see me.”

She simply nodded. There was no point in telling him that she’d relented after just one week, only to be told that he’d already shipped out on a mission. That had been a moment of
weakness. Now she was finally ready to talk. “We have so much to say,” she
said. “It’s hard to know where to begin.”

“Tell me why you didn’t allow me to visit before.”

Ciena turned her head, unwilling to look him in the eyes as she said this. “I wish you had left me aboard the
Inflictor
.”

“If you’re waiting for me to apologize for saving your life, you’ll be waiting awhile.” After a brief silence, he added, “But I understand why you feel that
way.”

“Do you?”

“You wanted to do your duty and escape the Empire at the same time. Suicide was the only way to do that—to balance the scales. But you shouldn’t measure yourself against the
Empire. You’re worth more than the rest of it put together.”

Ciena glanced up at him then, touched despite herself. He looked even more handsome than he had in her daydreams. His hair had darkened slightly,
more red than blond. Someone who had not seen
him since his childhood might not recognize him now.

But she thought she would always know him, by his step or his flight or his eyes. Something about his eyes never changed.

“You do understand,” she said quietly. “But I wish you’d respected my decision.”

“You’re glad to be alive, though, right?” Thane stepped closer to the barrier as
he added, more hesitantly, “Aren’t you?”

For a moment Ciena couldn’t answer. Finally, she managed to say, “It’s too early to tell.”

He didn’t seem to have a reply to that. She didn’t blame him.

There were times she truly wished she had died rather than face this shame. At other moments, however, Ciena found herself enjoying the smallest pleasures of existence—the only ones
available
inside her cell. And then she felt she hadn’t been ready to die just yet.

Looking at Thane now was one of those moments.

She said, “It’s hard. Everything I worked for my whole life has been destroyed. Everything I ever fought for is a lie.”

“Not everything. In the end, you fought for me.” His smile was crooked. “That’s got to be worth something.”

Her throat tightened against tears
she refused to shed. “That’s the only part still worth anything.”

“Ciena—”

“It was the perfect trap. You know?” She had to clench her fist hard enough for her nails to dig into her palm; focusing on the pain kept her from breaking down completely. “I
was so dedicated to honor that I became a war criminal.”

“There’s more than one kind of trap. For a second there I’d convinced myself
that we’d fixed the whole galaxy, truth and justice had prevailed, so on and so
forth—even started believing in the Force, of all things—” He laughed at his own folly. “So I had enough hope to take that impossible chance and come after you, but it
turned out I saved you only for this. And now you’re trapped here, where we can’t even
touch
—”

“Stop. Please stop.” Ciena hid her face from
him; she could tell he’d turned slightly away.

For a few moments they both remained silent, struggling for control. Ciena had thought her own sorrow was too much to bear, but now she had to endure Thane’s, as well. It was too much for
either of them—and yet they had no choice. When one was wounded, the other bled. He was a part of her, forever.

She managed to slow her breaths, regain
her composure. By the time she lifted her head again, Thane had calmed himself, too. “So. Are you all right? They’re treating you well?”
He glanced around her small cell as if inspecting it.

She had to admit the truth. “Yes. They give me holonovels and simple games. I can claim up to seven hours of outdoor exercise a week—under supervision, of course—but the
doctors agree I shouldn’t do
anything too strenuous until I’ve healed some more.” Her hand stole across her abdomen, unconsciously shielding it.

He winced. “You know I would’ve been more careful with you if I’d realized how badly you’d been injured.”

“Yes. I know.” Though perhaps that would have been the death of them both, because it had taken that much force for him to overcome her. She felt strangely proud of that.
“Anyway. I sleep a lot. The bunk here isn’t much, but it’s reasonably comfortable. I’ve been treated humanely by the Rebellion…the New Republic officers.” She
brushed a loose coil of hair away from her face, self-conscious about her next admission. “I had expected interrogation by torture. The Empire had taught me to think that was standard
procedure—all any prisoner could expect. Instead
I got medical treatment and information about my legal rights.”

“Have you told them anything voluntarily?” Thane hastened to add, “I’m not pressuring you. I’m not here on behalf of the New Republic, and I never will be, all
right? You never have to doubt whether they sent me in here to play you.”

Ciena had harbored dark thoughts about that very scenario late at night as she lay in her
bunk. But now she could honestly reply, “I believe you.”

Visibly relieved, he continued, “I asked only because—you know, they’d cut you a break if you did.”

As if that could ever persuade her. “My oath still holds, Thane. While I admit that I see the New Republic in a different light now, I’m not turning traitor. Nor do I accept their
rule. From what I’ve heard, the war’s still raging
on, chaos has returned to the galaxy—”

“It’s the normal disorder of planets trying to get their governments back together after years of—” Thane sighed. “Skip it. We both know each other’s
lines.”

“There’s no point anyway,” she said. “They’re not going to ‘cut me a break,’ no matter what I tell them. I’m a war criminal, remember? The New
Republic will make me pay for my service to
the Empire.”

Maybe that was no less than she deserved.

Thane stared at her for a long moment; then, to her astonishment, he began to smile and shake his head. “You’re going to get out of here pretty soon even if you don’t talk. If
you
did
share some intel, I bet you wouldn’t even have to stand trial.”

“What are you talking about?” Her appointed defender had shown her the list of
charges against her; it spooled down several screen lengths and elaborated with great detail her
service at the battles of Hoth, Endor, and Jakku. She could not deny that she was responsible for every single item on that list. “We both know I’m guilty. The New Republic will want to
make an example of me. They’ll need to prove that law and order prevail, precisely because it’s a new law and a new
order. The lines have been redrawn and I’m on the wrong
side.” At last she spoke her worst fear out loud: “I might be in this jail cell the rest of my life.”

“We’ve had this argument before, too, you know.” He leaned closer to the energy field. “My idealistic phase is over. I’ve remembered how the world really works. And
the thing is, Ciena, things fall apart. Too many people had to work
for the Empire for them
all
to be jailed. That’s literally hundreds of billions of people, not even counting the
troops who vanished with the rest of the Imperial Starfleet. You think the New Republic can punish every single one?”

“They’ll free the clerks and the cleaners. Not a captain of a Star Destroyer.”